


A Girl Will Obey

by AryaxJaqen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jaqarya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AryaxJaqen/pseuds/AryaxJaqen
Summary: Arya left Braavos and reunited with her family. Home not-so-sweet home. She is 16 here, it's a medieval world so there's no need to age her up. Get over it :)I own nothing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so please be gentle :)) It's a short and simple Arya pov story.  
> This is for all J/A shippers especially PatriaRoux who encouraged me to write my own fic :)

Arya was twitching in her bed unable to sleep. A mixture of sadness, anger and longing was keeping her up.

She was to marry king Gendry Baratheon on the morrow but it was not her to make that choice. A cruel Westerosi custom, cruel for women, was to make the alliances by marrying off daughters or sisters in order to gain the support of the lords who held power and great armies. The lord who could lend his men to her brother Jon, the King in the North, happened to be long forgotten Gendry. Once a blacksmith and an unacknowledged, lowborn bastard of King Robert Baratheon, now declared his heir, though Arya knew Gendry wasn't the rightful one. Winter came and great houses withered, armies were vanishing under the deadly beauty of snow and the kings were dying like flies. Those who would carry a sword and revive the memory of great rulers would take a burden to fight and protect like Jon did. Others would take a chance to change their fate and their names. 

_I should have let him burn!_

Arya thought and wondered if Melisandre would still be interested in making a little "king's blood sacrifice" show.

 _Jon would never allow_ _it_... She sighed in resignation.

  
How could he allow to sacrifice her, his beloved little sister though ? After all he was the one who gave her Needle, he was the only one in the entire world who understood her until...until Jaqen showed up in that damn cage.

 _Jaqen!_ She couldn't stand the thought of him that night. The Lorathi promised her _If you must find me_ _again_  but she hadn't seen a sign of him since she left Braavos. And she needed him. She needed him badly if she was to go through it all. How could she do it without him near ? Only Jaqen could make her brave again.

  
That night was dark and full of terror for Arya Stark. There was no sight of the moon and the stars, even the sky was mourning with her. Arya's heart clenched when she thought about Jon's sad eyes when he desperately pleaded her to follow Baratheon's demand for the sake of Winterfell, the North, Westeros. Where was the dragon queen that was promised ? Arya had heard about young brave Targaryen gathering an army in Essos but the queen was far and away and only the Many Faced God knew when she would come to Westeros.

  
A girl smiled sadly in the dark as she recalled her sister's teary eyes when she gracefully asked the king to accept her as his queen instead of Arya. After all she had been through, Sansa was ready to sacrifice herself again for the sake of Winterfell and her little sister, to spare her the fate of a Westerosi lady, the fate Arya loathed so much.

Poor Sansa ! They had finally understood each other, no more silly fights and prejudice. The Stark siblings stood strong together and would restore their House. Oh but with what a cost ! The king made it clear, it was Arya or nothing.

 _Valar Dohaeris_... _All men must serve_...Where was _a man_ ?

Arya curled up in her bed tired with her bitter thoughts, tired with the pain she felt whenever her stubborn heart reminded her of the Lorathi. How could she share her life with Gendry ? To lie with him, to bear his children... She shuddered at the thought. _That_  life after all those years she spent with Jaqen in Braavos ? All that she learned from him, the strength he gave her, the joy of freedom she felt despite the strict rules of the House of Black and White. All that only to be pushed again into the very same life she ran away from.

She cried herself to sleep and fell into an uneasy dream. She dreamed of the sunny streets of Braavos she grew up in.

_She walked through the city breathing in the smell of spices and fruits, ginger, cloves and oranges. She held the iron coin in her hand:_

_"The coin you never earned! " The spiteful voice in her head hissed but she didn't care._

_She knew that coin would lead her to another voice, warm whispers, strong arms, golden body , ginger and cloves..._

  
Arya woke up with a start. Had she been touching herself in her sleep ... again ? The room seemed brighter now with the moon finally shining through the narrow window. She was lying under her sheets with her nightgown pulled up to her belly and her hand below. She inhaled deeply and she could swear the air still smelled of ginger and cloves. How the dream could be as vivid as to make the aroma linger around even when she was awake ? She heard a barely audible sound of someone clearing his throat and she swiftly reached for Needle left by the side of her bed and pointed the sword's edge at the very heart of Jaqen H'ghar.

 

"Where were you ?!"

 

Jaqen looked down at Needle's point touching his shirt then looked up at Arya and smiled his most devastating smile :

 

"A man had his duties and a promise to keep."

 

Seven hells ! How she missed that smile! Arya put her sword away grateful that Jaqen was kneeling next to her bed so she could still stay under her sheets and hide the state her nightgown was in and her half naked body. She tried to discreetly pull her gown down under the covers. Jaqen didn't even pretend to look away apparently very interested in her efforts to regain some of her dignity. 

"How long have you been here ? Why did you sneak up on me like that ?"

 

"Old habits die hard lovely girl" Another damned smile.

 

"You should have woken me up !" Arya sat on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed.

 

"A girl was dreaming" Jaqen explained politely "A man didn't want to break what seemed to be a pleasant dream."

 

Was that bastard reading her dreams now ?!

 

"It was a nightmare." She stated coldly hoping the night was still dark enough to hide her blush.

 

Although it was bright enough to show Jaqen's perfect face that now was full of the deepest concern.

 

"Was that why a girl was moaning so loud ? A girl was in pain! A man must ask forgiveness. He should have put a girl out of her misery !"

 

"I was not mo..." Arya wanted to scream but suddenly Jaqen was holding her with his hand over her mouth :

 

" Hush lovely girl ! You will wake up the king. I missed you too !" And he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl has needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, lovely people :) Please be forgiving, it's the first thing I have ever written. I've started this story not expecting someone would actually read it and then I freaked out that it needed to be finished :)) And then I had no time for writing at all :(  
> I hope you enjoy this update.

"You can still meet Needle !"

 

Arya finally relaxed in Jaqen's arms. It felt so good to lean against his firm body again. She knew her harsh words couldn't conceal a tremble in her voice and a furious beating of her heart which for his ears sang loud as warhorn. Clever girl would rule her face, steady her voice, calm her heart.

Arya tried to be cold and composed but sometimes she felt like she was just a young girl after all and that girl needed _a man_. Jaqen's kiss melted away her maiden fear, her worry and doubt. The gentle touch of his lips, his strong arms around her sent flames through her veins. Suddenly she had that wild idea of giving hot luscious kisses to his mouth and the whole of his hard, tall body. She wanted to taste him not in her dreams, like she used to do, but in her very bed, on her lady mother's pure white sheets, where she felt his warmth nearly too intense to bear through the Myrish lace of aunt Lyanna's gown she was given by Sansa.

She put her face in the crook of his neck and bit her lip. To add to her distress, Jaqen grinned making it clear he noticed all of that as he rested his chin upon her head, something that became a familiar gesture between them.

They had always felt so comfortable with each other, connected even, to the point that it made her ache for him whenever he left Braavos. Jaqen's mission at the Citadel was the torture for Arya. The days of training with the Kindly Man and all the lessons with the Waif dragged on painfully. Her wolf dreams gave her a feeling of freedom but for the first time since the girl come to Braavos she couldn't find comfort in them.

For many a night she lay awake, soft sighs escaping her lips, her curious fingers searching for all of those places all over her body she wanted _him_ to touch. To lie with him had become her favorite subject of daydreaming while she tended to her daily duties. The more distracted the girl became the more the Kindly Man covered her body with bruises. Every time Arya failed the test the Waif's voice rang out like a bell, triumph giving it power _You'll never be one of us, Lady Stark !_

Each time Jaqen returned to Braavos the heated discussion sparked over her training routine between the Lorathi and the elders. Arya heard the iron tones of his voice echoing against the stark walls of the secret chambers of the House of Black and White whenever she managed _quiet as a shadow_ to spy on them.

It didn't matter though because she only needed to see _him_ and all she cared about was to steal as much of his time as she could. To stroll around Braavos with his hand over her shoulder, his long fingers playing with a strand of her chestnut hair. To hear him teasing her, his lips close to her ear, his breath on her skin warmer than the candles that burned in the temple. Most of all though to cherish that look in his eyes she saw whenever she caught him watching her. The look she couldn't name then but it made her as bold as to think that he _needed_ to see her as well.

 

"If a girl chooses to touch a man's heart with her sword only" He sighed but she heard amusement in his voice. "A man will take whatever he is given."

 

She felt his lips moving against her hair and she knew he was smiling. She inhaled deeply and the whiff of his spicy scent tickled her nostrils. Ginger, cloves, soap and water. She looked up to him and saw his face above her, his hair still slightly wet brushed her skin and she blurted out accusingly :

 

"You have bathed!"

 

Jaqen put his finger on her lips quickly and for a moment she felt tempted to open her mouth again and swallow it.

 

"Did a girl want a man to come straight to her bed all covered with the dirt of all the roads he had traveled ?"

 

"I wanted you right away !..." She pushed his hand away and, ignoring his chuckle, insisted "How long exactly have you been here ?!"

 

His both hands rested then on the small of her back and he caressed her gently.

 

"Long enough." He admited with a nod of his head, his smile gone by then.

 

"So you've heard..." She couldn't say it aloud. "You know I've been...Why didn't you stop them ?! There must be other way!"

 

Jaqen's hands tightened around her narrow waist as he sadly surveyed the girl's pretty face. He looked into her beautiful eyes staring at him wide open and he saw her wild loving heart, her precious soul reflected in those dark pools of hers. His left hand moved up her back and he cupped her neck.

 

"A girl thinks a man has the answer to all her questions." He purred slowly bowing forward over her to glide his hand through her dark silken hair. He pressed his forehead to the crown of her head.

 

"I know you do!" Arya shivered in his embrace. "You could have stolen me!"

 

She curled her toes at the thought and Jaqen ran his hand from the girl's waist down her leg to her small foot, just in time to caught her in the act.

 

"Lovely girl made another friend" She felt he was smiling again "She met Tormund" He teased her.

 

"It's not just him !" She whispered stubbornly "Rhaegar stole my aunt too!"

 

At that Jaqen released his hold on Arya. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes :

 

"Why would you run away with me now when you've found your family ?"

 

"Because I can't do it without you !" Her sweet voice sounded pitifully.

 

"Do what ? Marry your friend ?"

 

"He's not my true friend!" She protested hotly. The memory of Gendry's betrayal fueled her anger. "Live" She added then simply.

 

"And why is that my lady of Stark ?" Jaqen asked her in all seriousness.

 

"Because...because..." Arya bit her lip under his scrutinizing stare. "Because you're my master!" She spat out desperately.

 

Arya was sure Jaqen's laughter would wake not only Jon but all the noble Starks sleeping peacefully in Winterfell crypts. Perchance aunt Lyanna herself would leave her cold stone chamber and climb up the stairs to watch yet another fiery Stark girl accepting a man in her maiden bed.

 

"I thought we're meant to be quiet !" The girl hissed as she gazed at Needle and briefly considered a life in celibacy.

 

Suddenly she felt Jaqen's lips on hers. He wrapped his arms around her and she felt everything she was, everything she would ever be. She would fall back on her bed pulling him with her but he held her firmly. He pressed his body to her and she felt his chest touching her stiffen nipples through the thin fabric of their clothes. He parted her lips with his tongue and tasted her hungrily.

Then he stopped abruptly and looked at her intently but this time Arya was fast enough and before he could speak she whispered fervently :

 

"Lie with me!"

 

"When I come back. _If_   I come back." His sad smile was breaking her heart.

 

" _If_ ? When ? Where are you going ?! You're leaving me ?!"Arya demanded frantically. "It's got to be now!"

 

"Does a girl want to wake on the morrow with this man's bastard under her heart ? The king won't be pleased with that."

 

"Then I will stab him !"

 

"Did a girl meet Ygritte as well ?" Jaqen tried to tease her but his voice lacked mirth and Arya saw the pain she felt in her aching heart reflected in his eyes.

 

"Then I will go with you!" The girl noted he was alarmed at that and she continued mercilessly "Or I will stab myself !"

 

She started to kiss his jawline, his neck, his chest where his heart was beating as fiercely as hers. Jaqen answered by tightening his grip on her shoulders.

 

"Evil girl !"

 

Arya put her arm around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, her other hand went down his body and she smirked against his lips when she felt how hard he was.

 

"There are other ways!" She whispered urgently " Without the risk."

 

He could not help but smile as well :

 

"And I thought I was your master." He murmured reveling in her touch "If I do this thing will a girl obey ?"

 

"A girl will obey !"

 

Arya bit her lip hard to stop a moan from escaping when he slowly slid his fingers between her thighs and rubbed at her hot aroused nub.

 

"Spread your legs, sweet girl" He purred hotly against her ear " Your master is thirsty!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback is highly appreciated and will help me to improve my writing :)  
> I own nothing !


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man and a girl must do a thing but they are not alone in Winterfell. Someone has to work while they are having fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)  
> As you could read in previous chapters I tried to describe what Arya would feel had she been forced into an arranged marriage. I imagine that's what Lyanna felt like before she ran away with Rhaegar.  
> Jaqen, of course, was there to do a thing :)  
> This time we get someone else's pov.  
> I own nothing.

Down in the hot steamy baths of the Winterfell castle a woman in a faded rust-coloured dress breathed deeply of the scent of ginger and cloves. She waited till the last wench went off to sleep and the last of the sellswords was done with his bathing. Her white fingers smoothed the thick fabric of the black cloak a man left on the bench before she moved to sweep the floor.

 

 _All men must serve._ That's what he said. _Valar Dohaeris._

 

A strange light shone in her blue angry eyes when she recalled his voice, silk and steel, speaking the words she had learned long time before he was born. She pursed her lips. She hoped her work would be done soon.

_The woman came to the castle but a few nights ago. She didn't speak much, tired and bitter she was. The war stole away all the hope and strength she had left in her old soul. She would clean and sew for a slice of bread and a spoon of watery soup or whatever they could spare in the kindly king's kitchen._

_They valued good work in the North and by the Old Gods they needed every pair of hands in that mournful half-burnt place that Winterfell had turned into. The king's sister, the gentle, softspoken one, showed her mercy and gave a grieving mother a place with the servants. The woman would sleep near the bathchambers with the rest of the girls, the princess said, but would not be burdened, she warned, by the duties too strenous for the miserable state she had found her in._

When the woman was done with the floor she folded the linens with care and put them into the large wicker basket. There would be more of those before the Lord would grace them with the light of the day, the royal wedding day. The girls would complain on the morrow when their calloused hands would turn red in the soapy hot water and they would giggle and whisper gossips about the young king's bride and the love she met. They would sing sad lovely songs that would feed their poor young souls with the dreams of that sweet torment of real passion the girls so longed for.The songs of heedles maidens, their innocence stolen, their sweet loving hearts broken.

Her lips curled in a bitter smile when she gathered a man's garb. She took one of the burning candles and made to depart when she saw a direwolf waiting quietly at the entrance staring at her. It's dark golden eyes seemed almost red as they were glowing with a ferocity that she had never seen in Jon's Ghost's eyes.

 

"Are you spying on me ? I thought you might be too busy tonight."

 

Her smile grew wider when the wolf bared it's bloodied teeth but her eyes were not cheerful as she spoke again :

 

"I know you won't hurt me, girl. Not yet."

 

The woman's voice was firm but quiet. The beast led her outside and she followed into the dark of night. A cold wind tore at her long hair as she stomped across the courtyard. The layer of fresh snow made her footsteps soft and slow. She tried to shield the candle in vain effort, the flame died quickly in the gusts of northern wind, so she just wrapped her arms around a man's cloak she was carrying and went on. The woman and the wolf were not very fond of each other but that night they walked together in a quiet companionship.

She knew there were guards on the bridge looking down at them but she had no fear. No soldier, not even a wildling raider would leave his place to follow the weak old beggar they saw. Her dress was a pile of rags, her hair was a mess and not even the light of the moon that shone brightly would smooth the wrinkles on her pale, almost colourless face. No one bothered the lonely woman when she made her way to the crypt of Winterfell.

Mayhap the king's grief-stricken sister herself had sent the old servant to the crypts to light a candle for the peaceful rest of her young brother.

Mayhap the woman seeked the place to pray in silence among the tombs. To weep and praise the ghosts of the merciful lords, to thank for the shelter the Stark children gave her in the misery of her last days. So old she was she might be dead by his lordship's cold grave soon after she'd paid her respects.

At least the wolf would guard her in her final hour. The other wolf, the wilder one that found its way home when the Starks youngest daughter returned to Winterfell. She would make a lovely bride, sweet girl, she had a wild beauty about her, she was half a wolf herself.

 

The woman stopped before the heavy black door and pushed them with all the strength she had. She eyed the wolf that waited beside her and when Nymeria did not seem likely to go away she entered the crypt.

The wolf took the lead and the woman followed down the narrow stairs untill they reached the chilly corridor. They walked under the tall ceiling through the big archways lit by the torches affixed in iron sconces on the pillars and the walls.

She found Lyanna Stark's grave and put the garment she brought on its stone shelf. She searched around, a bunch of sticks was stashed between the tombs, night-black armor, decorated with rubies and silver on its breastplate, lay underneath.

The place wasn't dark but it was cold so before she started her work, she made a small fire and sat by it.

Nymeria slowly padded around. She aproached the woman and sniffed at the fur lined cloak she held in her hands.

 

"That's right, it's his." The woman gave Nymeria a stern glare but smiled."You know him well, don't you ?"

 

The wolf howled and she spoke again, gentler than one would expect :

 

"Hush now, we have to wait. Be patient, princess."

 

Nymeria finally found a perfect spot, not too close to the fire but within the reach of its warmth. She cocked her head watching the woman. Her face appeared smoother now, her cobalt blue eyes glowed darkly, her hair was red in the garish light of the flames.

 

"Rhaegar Targaryen, the prince that was promised, Jon Snow..." Melisandre looked up at the sad lovely face of Lyanna's statue, her voice faded to a soft murmur."...Jaqen H'ghar..."

 

She lowered her gaze at her busy hands. The needle moved quickly, clean and swift. The fire cast long shadows across the bare, granite walls. The faint smell of burning wood filled the air.

The shadows around her were dancing like dragons and wolves in their eternal dance of fighting, loving, pairing, splitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, leaving comments and kudos :) Your feedback is always greatly appreciated:)  
> I still own nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay. I should have finished this story ages ago. Thank you for being so patient with me <33

The moonlight filled the chamber with soft silver glow. Silver and precious like those strands in Jaqen's hair she laced her feverish fingers through.

  
They were resting, holding each other closely while her body still trembled from the aftershocks. His hands fondled her soft curves through the flimsy material of her gown. Arya could still feel his kisses, firm, hungry yet tender on her rosy folds. 

 

  
'Who let you in ?' Arya broke their blissful silence. 'Did you kill the guards ?'

 

'Kill your brother's men ?' Jaqen raised his brow slightly. 'This a man wouldn't do.'

 

She moved her hand to his face and traced the strong line of his jaw.

 

'Then how did you get in ?'

 

'An old friend of mine let me through the gates.'

 

'You have friends here ?' She almost felt jealous. 'Who is it ? How did he know you were coming ?'

 

'I sent her the raven.'

 

Jaqen held her small hand, turned his face and placed soft kisses on her palm. His lips curled into a smile as if he knew what was coming next.

 

' _Her_ ?' Arya furrowed her brows and pulled her hand away. 'Why didn't you send a word to _me_ ?'

 

He didn't answer right away. Instead he kissed her brows gently, one after another. His face grew sober when he spoke again.

 

'How could a man know if a girl wanted to see him at all ?' He answered with a question, his voice was low with some deep emotion. He took her hand again to kiss the tips of her fingers. 'On the eve of her wedding.'

 

'But you came anyway !'

 

Jaqen nodded slowly.

 

'I had to see you. Even if from afar.'

 

This time Arya let him kiss her palm but asked again persistently.

 

'Who is she ?'

 

'A girl knows her name.' Jaqen smirked, amused with her little interrogation. 'Devoted priestess of the Red God.'

 

'Melisandre ?' She raised her brows in surprise. 'But Jon banished her ! I haven't seen her around since she left. I even tried to find her...' Arya trailed off chewing her bottom lip.

  
She thought about the red woman, as Davos called her, of her lustrous hair, of her cold blue eyes and the ruby shining against her white skin and her heart clenched a bit. 

 

'I wanted her to watch over you in case you needed a friend.' Jaqen surveyed her face, a small smile played around his lips. 'To keep you safe.'

 

Arya ignored the concern ringing in his voice. She thought about the Waif and her bleached hungry eyes watching every move they made whenever Jaqen came to Braavos. She thought about the wench in the baths of Harrenhal who never let them speak alone. Then she wondered who washed his bloody red hair in Winterfell.

 

'Did your friend help you with the bath ?' She asked, trying to sound innocent.

 

'She offered her assistance.' Arya yanked her hand angrily and gave him a shove. 'A man refused !' Jaqen chortled. 'This man knows lovely girl's greatest desire is to watch her Lorathi bathing. A man would put Melisandre in grave danger had lovely girl and her sword found their way to the bath house.'

 

With a low chuckle, he cupped her face and kissed her creased forehead.

Arya turned her head and bit his hand but he only laughed holding her closer until their foreheads touched and his warmth enveloped her like a thick blanket.

She bit her lip. So that's what life could be ! To bed Jaqen, to laugh with him, to dine together and share the pillow when the day was over. Without the Waif and her pale eyes spying on them. With no rules of old Westeros that forced a woman to give up her dreams, and be no more than a rich hostage in her husband's household. Like that poor girl who married old Walder Frey and even queen Cersei who wedded king Robert. But marriage didn't seem that bad when one could choose, when love was real and bedding wasn't a duty.

 

'This is not my greatest desire.' Arya whispered finally. 'This is !' She raised her face to look him in the eye.

 

'This ?' He asked softly.

 

'You. Me.' She gestured between them. 'All of this.'

 

'Lovely girl loves a man's touch this much ?'

 

He grinned disarmingly, cocky and boyish, nevertheless she wanted to bite him bloody.

 

'I won't marry Gendry !'

 

'A man wondered what excuse a girl would find this time to disobey.'

 

She _promised_ herself she would bite him bloody. Later.

 

'I must go with you !'

 

His face grew wistful.

 

'If you would go I can't promise you this.' He spoke sadly. 'Here you are safe. And kings die.' He added, seeing she was about to object. 'Baratheon kings most of all.'

 

She only heard Jaqen didn't want her.

 

'Why ?' Her voice came small. She was a lonely girl again and he was leaving her. 'Don't you want it Jaqen ?' She hesitated a moment. 'Don't you want _me_ ?'

 

'A girl lies.' Jaqen said firmly, his eyes bore into hers as if his existence depended on her. 'A girl knows !' He gripped her arm tightly. 'Where I go I might die and I don't want you to die because of me. I want you to live for me.'

 

'I know death !' She decided quickly. 'I'm not afraid.'

 

'Lovely girl, there are things worse than death.'

 

A cold shiver ran down her spine. She understood immediately. Jon hardly spoke of anything else.

 

'But Jon wants the same !'

 

'Jon has enemies to the south and the dragon queen hasn't crossed the sea yet. Can one man be burden with the weight of the world ?'

 

She wasn't afraid. Better die together than live apart but the thought about her king brother sobered her. She would let him down and that hurt. And Gendry would turn his back on Jon. Unless...unless they would believe she didn't go willingly.

 

'Gendry won't help and Jon would blame me for this.' She took his hand and guided it to rest on her chest. 'But I will go unless you kill me !'

 

He palmed her small breast and it felt like his hand enveloped her very heart, beating furiously, stubbornly for him.

 

'No.' Jaqen said as if he was reading her mind. 'They will blame this man.'

 

He let go of her and sat on the bed. There was a knife in his hand suddenly, its blade thin as her little finger.

 

'Don't !' Arya stopped him when the cold blade touched his forearm. 'My blood !'

 

'I won't cut you !' He frowned.

 

'You will.' Her grey eyes widened. 'I want to !'

 

His eyes flashed with fire that echoed inside her.

 

'Just so !'

 

In one move he was out of the bed and Arya followed.

 

'Please don't go Jaqen !' She pleaded. Jaqen tossed his knife to the floor. 'What are you doing ?' 

 

'I intend to have my way with you.' His voice was deep and husky 'As any man would with his bride.'

 

Arya watched as his clothing puddled at his feet and soon Jaqen stood before her, naked as on his name day. She saw the familiar scars on his chest, strong muscles that flexed under his golden skin and the path of soft rusty hair leading from his navel down to his jutting manhood. She shivered in anticipation and from the feral glint of his eyes she learned it pleased him. 

Jaqen stepped closer to her and as if obeying to the unspoken request Arya pulled up her gown over her head and freed herself from the veil of Myrish lace. His hot gaze swept over her form.

 

'I am yours.' He purred as he leaned to her and cupped her face. 'Yours as you are mine.'

 

'I am yours and you are mine !'

 

Arya vowed, her voice was trembling like her body. Jaqen took her hand and they lay on the bed together.

 

The moon graced them with unreal dreamy brightness when they melted into each other. The sensation of his hot, bare skin on hers overwhelmed her. His hands roamed over her body greedily, cupping her breasts, caressing her thighs as she parted her legs for him again. 

Arya felt his shaft, hard, rubbing against her and she was wet and hungry, so hungry. Jaqen put himself on top of her, kissed her deeply and watched her face. His hand, smooth and solid like a warm stone, ran over her belly and slid down to her core. His fingers found her nub again, rubbed it with sure and gentle strokes then moved further to circle her wet entrance patiently. He took himself in his hand and rubbed his hard shaft against her folds. His breath came labored as did her own, his whisper was hot and sweet against her face :

 

'Yes ?'

 

'Yes !' She whispered, nodding her head in final confirmation.

 

Jaqen pushed himself into her. Arya opened her legs wider and with a soft cry she let him bury himself deep within her. And though it hurt and felt almost too tight to bear, she put her hands around him and sliding them down his back she held her Lorathi even closer. She felt a new wetness spilling from her, hot and strange, and she realized her maiden blood stained those pure white sheets on her bed.  
Jaqen propped himself on his elbows, his face hovering above hers. She raised her face and looked into his eyes, feeling all his and strong and brave.

 

'It's happening !' She uttered quietly as if to assure herself she wasn't dreaming. ' Jaqen, it's happening !'

 

He gazed at her lovingly. Arya had never seen such an unguarded expression of warmth on his face. It seemed that all the feelings he had kept, deep inside, so hidden, even from himself had found their way to his eyes, then to his voice when he whispered softly :

 

'Lovely girl'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of years ago, when we all thought the show would follow the books and people discussed Jaqen's mission at the Citadel a lot, I spotted the theory about Jaqen being the one who would bring the gift to the Night King. In this fic I subscribe to this theory a bit hence Melisandre and Jaqen meeting in Winterfell.  
> I hope you enjoyed the update.  
> Thank you for reading. As always I'm waiting for your comments.  
> Love  
> D.  
> P.S. Dear HBO and GRRM, I still own nothing.


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